


the night time fear

by dottie_wan_kenobi



Series: Harry Potter (series) Fics [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood Magic, Gen, Magic, Missing Persons, Mystery, POV Remus Lupin, POV Second Person, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi
Summary: You didn't know where you were going. Just that you wanted—needed—to get away. Not forever, you thought. Just for the night. Get away from the stifling rules of the school, the ever-present knowledge that there was no one, that there could never possibly be anyone if you knew what was good for you.You did know, most of the time. But there were nights it all became too much, and the curiosity and loneliness exploded out of you, and you left. You went down the path along the Forest.Only to the edge. That was the plan, and it came to you at some point when your hand was leaving a trail of blood on the crunchy leaves, your heart beating heavily in your chest. Only to the edge, and you would turn back.
Series: Harry Potter (series) Fics [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799116
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	the night time fear

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try to get out of a writing rut by writing something completely different. So I ended up with this spooky, 2nd POV fic inspired by these pics from Pinterest: [forest 1](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/cf/0b/ba/cf0bba616fc28629153bf1438f3dbd17.jpg), [forest 2](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/ef/14/01/ef14017be78e1abc4f59999b8cf1ae16.jpg), and [castle](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/6f/80/b7/6f80b72de86d839c023de5a6568c2d48.jpg)
> 
> If this is bad please forgive me, this was experimental and idk what I'm doing dkjhajh  
> Unbeta'd but I looked it over a few times. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title from "No Light, No Light" by Florence and the Machine

There, at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest, was a very average tree—the same height and color as its neighbors, with the normal amount of leaves and branches and roots. There was nothing to make it special, except that it was at the edge of the Forest, and for the nick in the bark in the shape of a perfect circle the size of a thumbnail.

The headmaster said that all students should stay well away from the Forbidden Forest. _Forbidden_ was the key word, after all. And for the most part, they listened. They would skirt the edges, in sight of the school and the lake and the front gates. But they never ventured far enough out to find the tree at the edge of the Forest, and when those rebellious few did, they were lucky enough to not take notice of the nick in the bark which was the shape of a perfect circle, no bigger than their thumbnail. 

But you were different. You were rebellious and unlucky. That's what they said about you, anyway. Rebellious and unlucky, when in reality—and you know this better than anyone—you were only curious and lonely.

It was curiosity and loneliness that lead you down that path. You walked on the edge of the Forest, the school in sight but far behind you, the lights growing dimmer and dimmer as you went. And you dragged your hand along the bark of the trees, because it was a sensation that made it all the more real for you—the night and the loneliness and the rebellion. Your palms stung as branches snagged your skin, blood drawing and mingling with the thick, soupy air which was full of magic and cool with the night. You heard hooting and growling and, you thought, perhaps, very distant screaming. But you couldn't tell what was making the noise, or if it was even real, and you didn't think too much on it because you were scared. 

You didn't know where you were going. Just that you wanted—needed—to get away. Not forever, you thought. Just for the night. Get away from the stifling rules of the school, the ever-present knowledge that there was no one, that there could never possibly be anyone if you knew what was good for you.

You did know, most of the time. But there were nights it all became too much, and the curiosity and loneliness exploded out of you, and you left. You went down the path along the Forest.

Only to the edge. That was the plan, and it came to you at some point when your hand was leaving a trail of blood on the crunchy leaves, your heart beating heavily in your chest. Only to the edge, and you would turn back.

It was very dark when you got there. Very, very dark. There was hardly any moon in the sky, the stars hidden behind clouds, and all around you, the world was overwhelming with its mysteries.

The air caught in your lungs as your hand rested on the bark of the tree at the edge of the Forest. You couldn't breathe as your blood—tainted, by Muggle or beast or both—darkened the nick in the bark which was a perfect circle.

You closed your eyes. The bugs and birds and all the other inhabitants of the Forest shrieked with chirps and hoots and growls. And a scream. You couldn't tell where it came from, just that it was guttural and pained, starting deep inside the body it escaped from. It was familiar to you, in some unknown way. 

Exhaling shakily, you opened your eyes.

You were in the Forest.

There in front of you was the tree at the edge of the Forest, with the perfect circle nicked in the bark. Except you were on the other side of it now, and on the bark was a nick which was simply a line. It was very small, as big as the space from your fingertip to your knuckle. Thin, too, and only noticeable because your hand was resting on it, your blood seeping into the divot.

In front of you, so so far away, was the school. The lights were very faint, more an impression of brightness than the actual thing. Behind you there was darkness, caught in a frightful glance over your shoulder. You were very scared then, and you tried to step forward, towards the school. 

You couldn't move. 

Not forward, anyway. You lifted a foot, ready to run back to the school where you were always alone and where you weren't taught what you wanted to learn, where it was safe and the thick air felt like home and even if it felt like a cage, it was familiar. But without your saying so, your foot fell again to the ground, and it did so again the next three times you tried it. You leaned your body toward the school, terror and longing clouding your thoughts. You wanted to be home, wherever that was. You wanted to be away from there.

Nothing happened. You couldn't move forward.

You pressed against an invisible barrier that stretched between the trees. It shimmered in front of your eyes, and it illuminated the space around you. The sparks hovered in the air, and then lowered to the ground, bright blue specks in a sea of black. In front of you, they stretched out as far as you could see, leading down another path. Trees, which ascended into an incomprehensible mass of darkness, lined it so thickly there were spots you could scarcely fit a foot on the ground, lit only by the sparks.

You tried one last time to turn back. It didn't work, you were stuck, and any hope left inside of you fled in that moment. You swallowed your fear. It wouldn’t do you any good now. 

You took a step onto the path.

* * *

Rebellious and unlucky, they called you. But first they were scared—attempting to find you in all the nooks and crannies on the grounds, in the library and the forgotten halls, in the lake and the greenhouses. Then your house, which stood empty but for the full moon nights, and all the dorms in the whole school. Even the town was searched, the occupants peering through their basements and sheds. It wasn’t the first time a student had gone missing.

Days passed this way. Your parents came, and they held your things in their arms, and they vowed to protect and love and cherish you, if you’d just come home. Your peers were frightened, and they began to mourn you, your name whispered in the halls with regret and gossip and grief choking the syllables. 

The teachers, those who cared for you and those who didn't, bandied together and they scoured the Forbidden Forest. They looked in the dens, and the streams, and the tree branches. They looked everywhere. But they never went to the edge of the Forest, and they never found you.

* * *

You walked forever. You followed the sparks, and you walked over dirt and roots and bridges that were one strong wind away from collapse. The path was winding and overgrown, and there were pockets where sunlight shone through, first weakly and then glittering brightly as the day went on. There were places where it was silent but for your feet on the ground, and others where you could scarcely hear yourself think over the all the noise.

You felt followed. There were eyes watching your ever move, you were sure of it, and you turned around every few minutes, terrified to speak. Your silence felt protective. You thought, if you didn’t make a sound, maybe that meant you were dreaming—because you never could scream in your nightmares, which this surely must have been. But even then you knew what was after you, whether you could see it or not. This was different.

There came a point where you raised your hand and ran your palm against the tree barks as you passed them. Branches snagged your skin, and it was a sensation, something to hold onto—something that made it all feel more real. 

You realized, then, that turning back would be useless. You’d gone so far; there was no return.

Still, you spent every step wishing it was the last, wishing you could turn on your heel and race all the way back to the tree at the edge of the Forest, and break through the barrier to get to the school. You hoped the path would end. You hoped, maybe it was circular, and you would end up back where you started—it would be a waste but you would accept that if it meant being safe.

Eventually your palm started bleeding again, and you heard a growl like it was right in your ears, a snarl that echoed against the bark of the trees. Frightened, you held your hand close to your chest and you ran, tripping over roots and your own shoelaces until you were heaving, feeling sick and gasping for air.

You wanted, desperately, to sit down.

But you felt you were being watched, and you didn’t.

* * *

There was something you didn’t know.

You were far from the only one who’d walked this path. Far from the only rebellious, unlucky, lonely soul who’d found the tree at the very edge of the Forest.

* * *

The sun rose and fell several times before you came upon the castle. You didn’t feel tired in a physical sense—your feet didn’t even ache, though your heart inside your chest throbbed with every anxious thought you had. But the castle, the end of the path, was a relief, even if it scared you too.

It was very tall, sitting in a patch of sun with flourishing plants all around, climbing up the walls and into the window panes. In places, the siding was cracked or peeling, and there was a window that was broken, the glass amongst the dirt shimmering in the light. Chairs sat on the large, overgrown porch, five of them, none of which looked anything like the others. There was one which looked brand new, a deep green recliner without even a speck of dust, but the others were more worn, the fabric rubbed down and the stuffing flat and the wood cut into. 

There were no lights coming from inside of the castle, no life that you could see. There was birdsong in the air, the buzz of insects, the eyes still pinned to your back. But it was like the world was holding its breath, and from where you still stood at the very edge of the path, you were alone.

You stepped into the clearing.

It was much warmer there, more than the sunlight would account for. The birds still sang and the bugs still buzzed and you were still being watched. You felt calm, and a desire to sit in that green recliner.

You took another step forward, then another and another, your body relaxing as a sense of rightness washed over you.

Something caught your eye, and you looked up at one of the windows, shocked to find a face looking back. It was unfamiliar, soft round cheeks and freckles and striking green eyes that pierced through you even from so far away. Whoever they were, they shook their head slowly, mouthing a word—’ _no_ ,’ you thought.

Out of habit, you opened your mouth to say something—you didn’t know what, there weren’t any good options—but then you looked closer at the face in the window. You couldn’t tell if they were looking at you, or behind you.

There was a sickening _shlick_ noise, and chills raced down your back and into your fingertips. You knew that noise, you’d heard it before. 

“Well, go on,” said an amused voice.

An Animagus, you knew. Like your teacher. But this, whoever they were, was not your teacher.

The face in the window pulled away, vanishing, and suddenly your calm turned into fear, trapped as tightly in your chest as you were in this clearing.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t make a sound, praying still that you were only dreaming—because you never could scream in your nightmares, which this surely must have been. Speaking would make it real. Screaming would make it real. You clenched your jaw shut.

“Might as well,” the voice said, closer now, and a cold breath passed over your shoulder. Heckles raised, you didn’t miss the way they laughed, low and a bit hysterical. “You’re not going anywhere now.”

 _Why not_ , you wanted to demand, eyes shut as if that would protect you. _Why me. Why why why._

Fingers danced along your back, a palm coming to rest over your ribs. Your heart inside your chest was pounding, your lungs constricting. They could surely tell, were surely aware of how utterly frightened you were.

You were pushed, then, feet stumbling and arms pinwheeling. They didn’t try to help you as you fell, your palms scraping on the ground. A flare of anger—at your situation, at your wounds, at them—bloomed inside you, and you turned your head to glare.

There stood a boy about your age. He looked like nothing you’d ever seen before—tall, dressed in deep vintage robes that billowed around his knees, with long black hair that fell around his shoulders. And his smile. It was wicked, canine, perfect. 

You forgot about dreaming. “Who are you,” you demanded, getting your knees under you. You tried to sound strong, but your voice came out shaking, dry, unused for days. “ _Who are you?_ ”

“My name is Sirius Black,” he said. A noise came from inside the house, a loud crash, but he ignored it. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough.”

“I won’t,” you replied, standing up. “I’m going home.”

Sirius laughed again. Pushing past, he stepped up onto the porch, and without another word, sat heavily in a rickety, wooden chair, tarnished by gouges all over. “Come sit,” he invited, gesturing for the new, green recliner. His smile was falsely sweet now, his voice deceptively welcoming. “You’ve had a very long journey. Just for a minute.”

Your instincts screamed at you to turn away. But there was something about that chair that compelled you, a force you couldn’t fight off with a spell or words or even your own willpower. You stepped towards it like you were being pulled, helpless to do anything but go. The porch creaked under your feet, and when you reached out, the fabric was infinitely soft, perfect to sleep in you thought.

Your abused palms protested as you dragged your hand down the arm of the chair. Hissing, you pulled your hand back, regretful as bloodstains appeared and darkened the beautiful green. There was another loud noise inside the house, a scrape like stone against stone. Sirius glanced towards the house, his unnaturally gray eyes narrowing.

Without another thought, you sat down.

You fell back, gasping, as magic exploded in the sky, turning the air thick and tangy. When you exhaled, sparks like those which lit the path for you flew from your mouth. Your senses opened like flowers in bloom, even more than they had been before.

Sirius watched avidly. “Blood magic,” he said reverently, hesitantly. “It’s a hell of a thing.”

“Blood magic?” You repeated, shivering.

“Come on,” he said, standing. When he touched you, he didn’t feel so cold anymore. “Let’s go meet your new friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [dottie-wan-kenobi](https://dottie-wan-kenobi.tumblr.com). If you liked this, please consider leaving a comment. Thanks for reading! <3


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